Insomnia
by fadedillusion101
Summary: - She was slipping away. - in a sort of twisted way, reds, r


**Author:** FadedIllusion101

**Title:** Insomnia

**Genre: **Horror/Romance

**Pairing: **Reds

**Rating:** T-M

**Disclaimer: **Do you really think I own them? Didn't think so.

**Summary:** She couldn't take it anymore. Everywhere she looked she saw his face, smirking at her from the shadows. She'd start to believe in was just hallucinations. That she was just dreaming. But when she'd go to bed, he was there. Behind her, messing with her body, toying with her delicate mind, raking his fingers through her hair.

**Notes:** Told in third person POV. Brick and Blossom are both around 17 years old and they have normal human features

**Insomnia**

_Drip._

_Drip. _

_Drip._

She couldn't take it anymore. Everywhere she looked she saw his face, smirking at her from the shadows.

He taunted her in her sleep, playing with her hair, running his calloused hands across her frail figure. Up and down, up and down. She'd try to fall asleep, squeezing her eyes shut to the point where she thought they would stay glued shut, and she would bite her lip until she was certain in would bleed. Her unwavering rosy orbs would stare at the velvet sheets, tears escaping the corner and streaming down her cheeks. But she couldn't, she couldn't fall asleep. Not like this. The only thing to do was to lay there motionless, while the devilish boy toyed with her.

She'd slip into slumber eventually, but that was only when he caressed her pumpkin coloured locks, when he gently removed the obnoxious bow from atop her head. When he would shift his place to the other edge of the bed, where he wouldn't panic her until the very next day. When the sun goes down and the lights turn out, the bugs crawling in the corners and the shadows creeping along her walls.

When her eyes would flutter open, he'd be long gone. No evidence that he was even there, in the bed with her, curled behind her petite form. Every morning her hands would shake. How in the world did he even get out? ...How did he even get in? After those thoughts ran through her head, she would lose it, screaming and sobbing and trashing up her room. Her sisters would walk in at that time, trying their best to calm her. The one with the golden ringlets would hold her close, asking what happened over and over as she rocked her from side to side, stroking her back gently. The tempered raven haired girl would stalk to the corner, glaring at the floor as if it had killed her first-born. The green clad girl attempted to keep a mellow level. Just like their once mellow leader.

The auburn haired puff would start to believe it was just hallucinations. That she was just dreaming. But when she'd go to bed, he was there. Behind her, messing with her body, toying with her delicate mind, raking his fingers through her hair. In the morning, she'd lose it again, and her sisters would come charging in to comfort her.

She was slipping away.

_Drip. _

_Drip. _

_Drip._

Her pink gaze flickered to the mirror, where she found a hollow shell of what used to be an intelligent, agile leader. The bags under her eyes, the untamed sunset mane spilled over her shoulders and swept the floor, her lip scarred and bruised, her nails bitten raw, it was all revolting. Sickening.

Her irises traveled downwards, across the curve of her shoulders, past her breasts, over her skinny waist, and to the butcher knife clutched in her hand at her hip, her fingers wrapping around it as if it was her life source. The smell of iron filled the quaint bathroom, lingering in the air.

Deep cuts adorned her pastel-like arms, blood dripping from them and splattering against the linoleum tiling, a crimson red drop seeping into the floor and staining it.

A grin spread across her once effervescent and lively face, tinted with a healthy shade of pink, now it's as white as a ghost. This grin was disturbing, spine-chilling, and belonged in a horror film, one where the serial killer has his next victim backed into a corner, cowering away from his shadowy aurora and eerie chortles.

_Drip. _

_Drip. _

_Drip._

All she could feel was pleasure as she carved into her delicate flesh, slashing and piercing her forearms like a kindergartener freakishly coloring, the crayons flying around at a mile a minute. The finished product being a sheet of line paper with multi-colored frantic lines scribbled on it.

She squinted back up at her reflection, and she had the living daylights scared out of her. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, pounding feverishly in her ears, just aching to burst out of her chest. Butterflies swarmed her stomach, a numbing feeling crawled up her throat, beads of sweat dripped from her freckled forehead and with the droplets of garnet blood on the linoleum.

His eyes. The devious, bittersweet carmine drilling holes into her head, icily staring back at her.

Her eyes took on a darker shade of pink, like a red rose oozing with blood. They clouded and all she could think about was slicing again. And again. And again.

_Drip. _

_Drip._

_Drip._

She began to feel light-headed and the washroom began to whirl around her like a twister, spinning in a loop until she became dizzy. A buzzing sound echoed in her ears, like a swarm of bees whizzing recklessly in their beehive. The knife fell and clashed against the floor with a metallic clang.

She didn't care what kind of hell she went through, as long as she gets to leave this darned place. This was a gateway to get out of this world of stress and fear, and to keep from venturing further deeper into the depths of depression.

One last look at the mirror, her reflection shook, her pumpkin locks tossed across her face, the bow sliding off her head, her bottom lip struggling to curve upwards into a giddy smile.

Those eyes... Those brutal, malicious wine red eyes. They were everywhere, circling around her like a sandstorm in a desert. They came forward and smacked against her petite body, knocking her towards the ground and into the minuscule puddles of blood on the floor. As her eyes rolled back into her head, she kept seeing those vicious irises all around her.

_Drip. _

_Drip._

_Drip._

* * *

**A/N:**

...Wow. I've never wrote anything like this before! Sure it's a little rushed at the end, but it still is decent...right? There is a sequel to this, _Wistfully_, it's about how Brick takes Blossom's newly found depression.

I'm kind of happy at what this came out to be. Your comments?


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